


maybe

by fortyfiveangrycats



Series: no solution [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Universe, First Kisses, JKAJKADLHJAKDhjLADHJLAKDhJADK, M/M, Oh My God, Sleepovers, THIS IS FLUFFY AND GROSS AND I LOVE IT, its so gay, just sort of goes from there, just... so gay, mentioned iwaoi - Freeform, they meet when they're thirteen and it, watari just laughs at everything dorky about kyou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:06:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortyfiveangrycats/pseuds/fortyfiveangrycats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>kyoutani. yahaba. kyoutani and yahaba. </p><p>ten years, braces and bleach, a camera, swear-phobia, a 3am call, a poster, two dogs, a giggly best friend, and some shampoo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe

**Author's Note:**

> i loved writing this tbh i hope you all like it !!!!!!! aaaaaaaa
> 
>  
> 
> also omg this is a very different format than I'm used to ?? and this isn't even a song reference for a title ??? wow
> 
> this took a span of five days to write and probably an overall of around 8-10 hours !!

maybe  
—

 

yahaba is thirteen when they meet for the first time. he’s in the park, quietly humming to himself as he jots down a few extra notes about medieval history. he thinks a bit about how cool it might be to be a european prince— maybe a king, someday— but he dismisses the thought when another kid comes into vision. they’re probably the same age, yahaba concludes, mainly because the other boy is remotely close in height to him, a bit shorter, but he doesn’t have much else to base the prediction on.

“hey, you,” the boy says when he notices yahaba staring, and yahaba immediately notices the fact that the other’s voice is lower than his— just a bit, but they’re still quite young, it’s likely that his voice will get even lower— but yahaba rethinks his ideas about the other kid. 

“yeah, me?” yahaba asks, confirming that there’s no one behind him. the other boy’s eyes have a dark color surrounding them, and yahaba isn’t sure whether it’s oddly colored eyeliner or if he’s just been deprived from sleep for weeks. he hopes it’s the first one. 

“it’s the weekend,” the boy begins, “why the hell are you studying?”

yahaba isn’t sure himself, especially since it’s saturday, and his nearest exam isn’t until this coming thursday, but he shrugs his shoulders and answers anyways. 

“i want to keep my grades up,” he replies, “if i don’t do well on the next history exam, my grade will sink, and i don’t want that.”

“fuck grades,” the shorter boy says bluntly, sitting down on a swing next to the platform yahaba is resting on, and yahaba jumps. he doesn’t like swearing.

there’s a bit of a peaceful silence, and yahaba answers a few more questions. he prefers ancient history over medieval, but medieval is better than nothing, and he returns to humming, the birds chirping in the background. it’s been a few days since he’s actually checked his calendar, but it’s probably around june thirteenth, and he’d missed wearing the pair of shorts he’s currently wearing. (they’d been in his laundry pile for too long, and he doesn’t like wearing the same clothes twice before washing them.)

“it’s yahaba, if you were wondering,” yahaba says after some time, noticing that the other boy had been looking at him, possibly anticipating conversation. maybe not.

“oh,” says the other, “i wasn’t.”

yahaba sighs. bad intuition. his gut feelings fail him sometimes. rarely, but when they do, it stings of embarrassment, and ninety-five percent of the time, they have to do with first impressions. he doesn’t like making conversation for the first time, he especially doesn’t like long silences, but he thinks that out of the two of them, he would’ve been the only one to make an attempt at speaking.

“kyoutani,” says the boy anyways, “because you were wondering.”

yahaba feels the heat in his face rise, and he looks down at his history homework to keep his brain occupied, to keep it away from thinking that he’d been found out, although he disputed that thought as well. was he wondering? maybe. 

maybe.

“how’d you know?” he asks. he’s very curious.

kyoutani sighs, giving himself a push on the swing with his legs. “i can read people pretty well. you’re kinda obvious about things.”

yahaba is taken by surprise, since he’d believed that he’d done a pretty good job of keeping his interest to himself, and with the amount of people-watching he does, he felt himself feel a bit like he’d failed himself. he tries to ignore his own train of thought.

“you seem like a big nerd,” kyoutani mutters, and yahaba rolls his eyes. 

“personally, i thought i was pretty cool,” he scoffs. kyoutani groans in response. perfect.

yahaba’s memories fade at this point, but he’s pretty sure his mother called him in for dinner, maybe the sun began to set, maybe kyoutani had to leave, but at the time, yahaba hadn’t cared enough to search for the memory. 

at the time, that was fine. he could just forget all of his memories of kyoutani, the boy at the park, with the dark circles under his eyes, the one with the short, black hair and the brown eyes that boldly looked into yahaba’s, despite never meeting him prior. 

 

—

 

the next time they hold a conversation, they’re fourteen, although they’ve passed each other in the neighborhood more often. they’re not in the same school district, surprisingly enough, the line falling right at yahaba’s row of houses, but there’s a strong likelihood that they’ll end up at the same high school.

it’s an interesting thought.

yahaba’s taking pictures of things in the park, the same one he met kyoutani last at just a year prior, and he mentally swears at his camera. he could never do it out loud, he promises himself, but he thinks he’s sound pretty cool if he, maybe, broke something and yelled ‘shit!’. 

he dismisses the thought when he catches sight of a patch of purple flowers, and he runs to take a picture of them, knowing full well that they probably will wilt in the next week or so. he likes the flowers in the neighborhood, planted by the volunteer workers, and he wonders if he could volunteer sooner or later.

yahaba takes the picture, getting down onto his knees for an angle, lightly pressing the shutter to focus it, only to be startled by the rustling of leaves behind him, and yahaba presumes that someone is approaching him. he turns around, coming face-to-face with none other than kyoutani. 

he looks different, somehow. yahaba is pretty sure he’s actually wearing eyeliner this time. the circles under his eyes have gotten darker. he’s definitely a bit more muscular, and yahaba thinks about how lanky and pale he is— as opposed to kyoutani, who’s standing in front of him, with his well-tanned skin and toned muscles. yahaba wonders for a second if he has abs (yahaba himself does not, but he assesses everyone else) and quickly cuts himself off. it’s weird.

there’s a little bark, and yahaba finds himself looking for the source, which turns out to be a corgi, the leash held by kyoutani himself, and yahaba laughs a little bit.

“what’s so funny?” kyoutani asks, scowling slightly. 

“you,” yahaba responds, “i wasn’t expecting such a little dog from a tough guy like you.”

kyoutani rolls his eyes but kneels down next to yahaba anyways, his dog lurching forward towards yahaba, putting its little paws on his thigh.

yahaba smiles down at the little dog, who’s panting slightly, and yahaba can’t help but giggle at the fact that its a bit overweight, a cute, pudgy dog with a bunch of energy. kyoutani, on the other hand, is making exasperated noises in the background at yahaba drooling over his dog. yahaba’s gaze flicks to him, and he’s a bit red, but yahaba’s pretty sure that it’s just really hot outside. (he’s sweating. maybe it’s because kyoutani kentarou, the boy who’s rumored to have gotten two detentions in the past week is sitting so closely to him.)

(maybe it’s because kyoutani kentarou has really nice arms, and his tee shirt is rolled up at the sleeves.)

“so, what are you even doing?” kyoutani raises an eyebrow at yahaba, and yahaba shakes his head slowly in response, snapping another picture of the purple flower patch. there’s a smaller yellow flower to the left of the group, and this makes an even better photo opportunity for yahaba. 

“i’m taking pictures,” yahaba answers, “it’s... it’s just a pastime of mine. i come out here with my camera a lot, i’m surprised you haven’t seen me wandering around here by now.”

kyoutani snorts. “i wouldn’t care, but you’re sitting awfully close to my backyard.”

“wait, really? i-i’m sorry,” yahaba stands up, leaving the yellow flower before he could take a picture of it, waving gently at kyoutani in apology. he doesn’t really want to get involved in a bad situation, especially including someone with quite a bad rep. 

kyoutani stops him before he can run up the small hill to where the playground is located. his dog follows behind him, using its short legs to bounce after its owner.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he says quietly, and yahaba can tell (he’s facing the opposite direction) that kyoutani’s hiding his face. his voice is muffled, even.

“then what did you mean?” yahaba turns around, and kyoutani’s dog wags its tail again. he forgets of train of thought, leaning down to pet the friendly dog.

“never mind,” yahaba begins, “i’ve got a question for you.”

kyoutani tilts his head a bit. “okay. sure.”

“what’s your dog’s name?”

kyoutani relaxes his shoulders and sits down on the hill, facing out towards the row of houses. yahaba copies his motions, but wonders why he couldn’t just answer the question. 

“this is bee,” kyoutani says, patting his dog on the head lightly. “she’s trying her best.”

yahaba giggles. “she’s very cute,” he adds, opening up his arms and letting her scamper over, her soft nose wiggling as she sniffs yahaba curiously. 

yahaba falls onto his back instead, letting his back hit the ground with a soft thump, and bee returns to kyoutani. yahaba raises his camera and takes a picture of the sky, a few clouds visible, letting out a long sigh. he has homework. he’s trying to avoid it.

(he prefers this. it’s nice sitting out in nature, with no one to stop him from doing whatever he feels.)

there’s no more conversation after this, the two of them simply lying in the grass and staring up at the sky. kyoutani occasionally points out birds or funny-looking clouds, but he doesn’t use any words, just gesturing vaguely to the sky. yahaba likes the fact that they don’t need to talk. he doesn’t know kyoutani well, but he, for some reason, enjoys sitting here on the hill with him. maybe he’ll come back again, just to look up at the sky.

(or maybe he wants kyoutani to join him. it’s better this way.)

 

—

 

the next time they run into each other, it’s the first day of high school, and yahaba’s late for his bus. he’s never late, but the night prior he forgot to wash his uniform, leaving him to do speed-laundry early in the morning. which threw off the rest of his routine.

so, here he is, dashing onto the bus at light speed, and hitting the top of the short staircase to board, he’s panting and looking out at the other high schoolers that will be accompanying him. there’s a bunch of students crammed together, even three to a seat, to avoid one spot in the back of the bus that’s seemingly empty. yahaba wonders if it’s an unlucky seat, but as he walks closer to the space, he can see a grumpy kyoutani kentarou sitting there instead. 

someone gasps as yahaba makes eye contact with kyoutani and silently asks to sit down. kyoutani shrugs, and there’s a few whispers as yahaba sits down next to kyoutani, all of them completely shocked that someone would even dare come near him. 

“hey,” kyoutani says gruffly, stuffing his backpack under the seat to give yahaba room, and yahaba tries to suppress a blush as he catches a glimpse of what seems to be braces in kyoutani’s mouth. he chuckles a bit and responds with an even quieter “hey.”

they sit in silence for the bus ride, because that’s what they do. yahaba makes a mental note that kyoutani actually looks drastically different, that it’s ridiculous that the only thing yahaba had noticed was his braces. he’s bleached his hair, only two stripes above his ears staying their original color. 

he relaxes more into the seat, wondering whether or not tryouts for the volleyball club will go well. that’s more of a priority than actual schoolwork, in yahaba’s opinion, and the first day of school is always boring. initiations, permissions, welcomes, he’s bored of it all. he needs something new, and it’s bugging him endlessly that he keeps grasping onto new things and letting them slip away. he thinks that maybe he’s caught onto volleyball firmly enough. 

(maybe it’s just because oikawa tooru is on the team. that’s pretty cool.)

watari sits with him at lunch. they talk about classes, how different and similar their teachers are, who sits next to them— yahaba’s missed talking to watari face-to-face. he lives only a few minutes away, but watari’s always at clubs or camps during breaks.

“so, did you meet anyone new over the break?” watari asks, and it catches yahaba off-guard. he doesn’t have a wide range of friends generally— he knows a lot of people, but his number of close friends is small. 

“no,” yahaba responds, “what about you?” 

“there’s a cute girl who lives down the street from me. she just moved in. her name’s misaki, i’m pretty sure, but my memory’s crap this morning,” watari says, taking a bite of a sandwich he’s packed. the wrapping on his lunch is nice, blue with polka dots, and yahaba finds his eyes wandering across the pattern. something flinches outside the window leading to the hallway, and both of their gazes flick towards the source. 

kyoutani’s walking by, stopping still in his tracks when yahaba looks at him. he relaxes for a few seconds, and yahaba raises an eyebrow at him. kyoutani shakes his head and scampers away, avoiding the rest of the school. yahaba wonders if he’ll be eating alone. 

“what was that about?” watari asks, and yahaba shrugs. 

“we... we sat on the bus together this morning,” he answers and watari looks as shocked as the students on the bus. for a moment, yahaba wonders if watari’s going to ask if he’s feeling okay, if he’s gotten into any fights or become a ‘bad boy’, which is something he would joke about, but he doesn’t. yahaba’s relieved. 

“that’s hardcore, shigeru,” watari teases him, “you’ve finally stepped out of your comfort zone, but of all people, honestly? you’re hilarious.”

yahaba tilts his head, closing his eyes. “he’s got a nice dog, at least. she’s really small and her name’s bee.”

watari flat-out cackles, and yahaba snorts at him. 

“kyoutani kentarou!” watari wheezes, “has a little dog named bee!”

yahaba joins in with him in laughter, and they maintain their conversation about kyoutani for the remainder of lunch. it’s interesting how much watari has learned about kyoutani from rumors, but yahaba doesn’t believe them. he’s pretty sure that kyoutani’s actually harmless, but he’s probably got some sort of anger issues that make him frightening.

(maybe he’s just really curious about kyoutani. he wants to know more.)

(he really does.)

yahaba nearly sprints to the gymnasium after school has concluded and runs right into kyoutani, who sputters and swears obnoxiously at him, even throwing a punch that could’ve easily broken yahaba’s nose, had he not ducked.

“what the hell!” kyoutani shouts, throwing his arms out to his sides, and yahaba jumps. he doesn’t like swearing, still, but it’s so natural coming from kyoutani that he jumps more from the sudden motion than the swears that trail from him.

he stomps away, but it’s inside the gym that he goes, and yahaba chases after him.

“volleyball?” he asks, in more of a shout than anything, and kyoutani nods.

“yeah, you got a problem with that?” 

yahaba shakes his head no, and he prances over to the locker room to change into his practice gear. it’s only a teal tee shirt and some black shorts, but it’ll do for tryouts. 

in the locker room, he sees oikawa for the first time in person, chatting away with his friends about some new feature in a volleyball magazine or something like that. his skin glows, and his long eyelashes bat when he talks, even to his friends. he catches yahaba staring and winks, making yahaba quickly turn away. he can hear oikawa giggling, followed by the sound of the other second-years asking him about why he’s burst out into laughter. he shoos them away. 

kyoutani changes in the back corner of the locker room, quietly pulling his own blue tee shirt over his head and stomping out of the area. watari is last to arrive, but he changes quickly and heads out with yahaba, getting into lines with kyoutani and the other first year tryouts to start drills. 

the hitting drills comes first, and yahaba sighs, knowing full well that he’s awful at spiking. he hopes that the coaches won’t downgrade his skills due to his spiking abilities. 

blocking comes next, then diving, then receiving, then passing, followed by a three-on-three, and yahaba’s exhausted by the time they get to setting, which is what he’s actually come for. he sets about ten volleyballs before the coach (apparently his name is coach irihata) stops them. yahaba worries that there’s something he’s done wrong, but apparently not, as irihata tells him, watari, and kyoutani that they’re going to be on the team, and there’s an excited shriek coming from the direction of the third years, led by oikawa himself. 

“thank you, sir,” yahaba says to irihata as he’s pushing the back door of the gym open. the sun is setting already, and the clouds are in stripes across the sky. he lets out a sigh of relief as he holds his gym bag on his back, and he heads down the path leading to his house. 

 

he’s late for the bus again the next morning.

(maybe he’s doing it on purpose.)

(he does it again.)

 

—

 

“kyoutani,” yahaba whispers, rubbing his eyes. it’s three in the morning, and his sixteen-year-old-brain isn’t quite ready to face the day yet. “what... what do you want?”

kyoutani’s calling him. it’s been a few weeks since yahaba gave kyoutani his number, primarily because of homework help, but sometimes he uses it for reminders (we don’t have practice today, do we) or for bringing up old stories (yeah, you’re a huge nerd, yahaba. i bet you’re probably at the park taking pictures right now). 

“can’t sleep,” kyoutani grumbles. 

“yeah, me neither,” yahaba hisses, “thanks a lot.”

kyoutani clears his throat, and yahaba can hear the shifting of blankets from the other end. it’s very quiet in yahaba’s house, but kyoutani’s voice makes him warm inside, and it doesn’t really seem so quiet and creepy anymore. 

yahaba moves around as well, turning to rest on his back like they did on the hill two years ago together, and he thinks about what could’ve been keeping kyoutani up.

“bad dream?” he asks, and there’s no response except for a little ruffling noise.

“oh. shit. forgot that you can’t see me.”

yahaba smiles, chuckling quietly so not to wake his parents. “you’re ridiculous. is that a yes or a no?”

kyoutani sighs. “it’s a yes. i have nightmares a lot.”

“is bee with you?”

“she sleeps in m’dad’s room,” kyoutani says much more quietly. “i don’t have a mum.”

yahaba wishes he could hug kyoutani, to sit next to him and make sure he knows he’s got friends that’ll help him if he needs it. he notices how, as kyoutani continues talking, that his voice is much calmer when he’s tired, and yahaba can envision the bedhead and the morning stubble and the circles under his eyes when he doesn’t have eyeliner on. he likes the thought so much that he hates it. so much that he almost hangs up.

“yahaba? are you still there?”

“oh! sorry, i zoned out,” yahaba lies, “are you feeling a bit better now?”

kyoutani sniffs a few times before answering, and yahaba giggles at him. “yeah, i think i’m okay. thanks.”

yahaba closes his eyes. “goodnight, kyoutani.”

“g’night, yahaba.” 

yahaba rolls over onto his back, pulling the sheets over his head, drifting off into a light sleep for the next three hours, woken up only by his mother shaking him, saying that if he wouldn’t wake up soon enough, he’d be last on the bus again.

what a shame, yahaba had said to her, i would hate to get stuck with that awful kyoutani kentarou again.

kyoutani falls asleep on the bus, and yahaba lets him slump over onto his shoulder. the kids in the seats nearby would sneak over with markers or cameras, but yahaba shoos them away before any damage could be done. maybe it’d be kind of fun to see kyoutani with a little sharpie mustache drawn on him.

(but maybe yahaba wanted that sight all to himself.)

 

oikawa approaches him at practice later that week to talk about a “private topic,” and yahaba’s worried to death for whatever he means by that. oikawa sits him down outside the gym on the little resting bench, and yahaba’s shaking slightly. oikawa pats his back to calm him down.

“you have no idea why i want to talk to you, do you,” oikawa chuckles, and yahaba shakes his head violently. he really doesn’t. 

“that’s okay,” he continues. “but... you can tell me if i’m wrong, alright?”

yahaba blinks at him in awe. “oikawa-san, i don’t understand.”

oikawa laughs again. “you will.”

he sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. “you and kyoutani-kun have been spending a lot of time together lately. did you pick up on that?”

yahaba nods. 

“okay, okay. good.” oikawa pats yahaba’s shoulder and smiles weakly. “do you think... you might have feelings for him? or the other way around?”

it hits yahaba like a brick. the late-night calls, the naps on the bus, the looks in the locker room, the shower routine, the partnership they weren’t planning on creating, the weird looks they got from the kids at school because now they were ‘together’. 

the way he felt when he heard kyoutani’s voice over the phone, the unexplainable daydreams during class, the braces, the eyeliner, the random thoughts of “what would i do if he hugged me?” and “wow, he looks good in that shirt,” and how kyoutani seems to wander the neighborhood more (or at least, yahaba’s checking more often. who knows). 

“oikawa-san,” yahaba chirps, “i can’t deny anything, but please... don’t mention it, okay? i didn’t even really know until you said it.”

oikawa nods. “it’s okay. can i tell iwaizumi at least? he’s bound to be some help, especially since i’m like ninety-five percent sure that kyoutani-kun hates my guts.”

yahaba hesitates for a second, but complies. “yeah, that’s fair. iwaizumi-san should be allowed to know.”

reaching his hand out, oikawa ruffles yahaba’s hair and stands back up. “besides, i want to make sure my future captain is in tip-top shape!” 

he skips back inside, leaving yahaba to ponder over the conversation in utter disbelief. firstly, over his newfound crush on kyoutani kentarou— and secondly, that oikawa was looking towards yahaba to be captain of the team. 

(maybe he did have a huge crush on kyoutani the entire time.)

(how embarrassing.)

 

“i need your help with some judgement on a project,” kyoutani says over the phone at the end of the school day. 

“can’t you just send a picture?” yahaba asks, although he doesn’t mind what kyoutani had proposed. 

“trust me, it looks different in person than it does in the form of a picture. i’ve tried. it’s stupid,” kyoutani grumbles. “you remember where my house is, right?”

“yeah,” yahaba replies, “are you already there? i’m just leaving the school building.”

“i’m already there, yeah.”

“holy crap, do you sprint or something?” 

kyoutani sighs. “no, i just walk really fast. but today my dad picked me up early. i dunno why.” yahaba nods in agreement, knowing full well that kyoutani can’t see him. it’s normal for students in yahaba’s neighborhood to take the bus to school and to walk home, mainly for time issues. some took the bus both ways, but yahaba’s parents thought it’d be easier for him to take the bus to school and to walk back home.

kyoutani’s house is very neutral colored, exterior-wise, and apparently interior-wise it is too. kyoutani greets him with a shrug and a vague gesture to the inside of his home, and kyoutani’s father stares in awe as yahaba walks in. his father looks a lot like kyoutani when he was younger, with short black hair and dark circles around his eyes. 

“kentarou,” kyoutani’s father says, and yahaba gets a chill, “i didn’t know you had a friend coming over today.”

kyoutani warily glances to yahaba, and yahaba holds his arms out to his sides. 

(maybe it’s nice being thought of as kyoutani’s friend, yahaba thinks.)

kyoutani trudges up to his room, yahaba following afterwards, and it’s smaller than yahaba would’ve expected, but kyoutani still manages to keep it somewhat tidy (there’s a sweatshirt tossed by the foot of his bed, but yahaba doesn’t really care about that). 

kyoutani’s doodled a little poster for a project about animal cruelty, and it’s shaky, but yahaba’s impressed by his awareness of forms, the thick black pen he’d used showing boldly on the paper. there’s a picture of bee at the bottom, and yahaba looks towards kyoutani as soon as he sees it.

“kyoutani, where’s bee?”

he looks over at yahaba with fierce determination before dashing out of his bedroom, and yahaba can hear the loud thumping of his footsteps down the lean hallway. he returns with bee in his arms, wiggling her tail and panting happily at the sight of yahaba.

“she was in her room,” kyoutani reassures, “bee has her own room, yeah.”

kyoutani sets bee down, letting her bounce around the room, excitedly sniffing at yahaba’s shoes. 

“hi, bee,” yahaba coos, “it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

it’s only been a few weeks, really, but for a dog, that’s ages. kyoutani crosses his arms and sits down on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him for bee to jump up onto, and he gestures for yahaba to join him. yahaba agrees with a simple nod, and sits down next to kyoutani on the other side, which bee climbs over him to sit in yahaba’s lap. she’s already seen yahaba before, but the joy of a dog overjoyed by your presence is too much to handle. 

“so, it’s kinda shitty, but,” kyoutani vaguely gestures to his poster. “are the colors okay at least?” 

the entire thing is drawn in heavy, black marker. yahaba chuckles, and kyoutani’s eyes wrinkle at the edges, which makes yahaba wonder what he looks like when he’s really smiling. 

“hah,” yahaba rolls his eyes, “nice going.” 

kyoutani’s father calls bee to come get her food, and she perks up, scampering down the hallway, her small tail bobbing up and down as she hops down the hallway. yahaba notices how kyoutani looks at his dog with such admiration, and it hits him to the core. the way that he softens around bee is incredible, considering how tense he usually is. 

yahaba’s mother calls him at seven-o-clock, and by then, kyoutani and yahaba have abandoned all talk of the poster, simply lying on their backs in kyoutani’s bed, facing the ceiling. they’re discussing coach irihata, somehow, and describing in-depth about just how frustrating it is to do this drill and that drill and yahaba’s never had a conversation this long with anyone besides watari. 

“hey, mom,” he answers quietly when he picks up the phone call. 

“shigeru,” his mother sighs, “you’re okay. thank the heavens.”

yahaba rolls his eyes. he just wants to get back to his conversation with kyoutani, he couldn’t care less about what his mother thinks at the moment— which, yahaba realizes is completely absurd, and incredibly unlike himself, and that maybe it’s kyoutani rubbing off on him.

(or maybe he had it in him the whole time, he just had to find someone to compliment the trait.)

“i’m at a friend’s house. it’s a block away, and i can send you the address if you need it, but i can get home by myself, mom,” yahaba explains. 

“are... are you staying for dinner? i just need to know if i should make a plate for you, honey,” his mother responds, and he looks towards kyoutani for assistance. it’s the one time he’s thankful for putting his phone on speaker. 

“you can stay for dinner,” kyoutani suggests quietly, and yahaba decides that he likes it a lot when he gets shy. 

“did you hear that, mom?” yahaba asks. “he said i can stay for dinner.”

yahaba’s mother disconnects shortly after, and yahaba texts her the address. yahaba assures kyoutani that it’s unlikely she’ll show up after receiving the address, though, and kyoutani relaxes a bit. 

dinner is quiet. kyoutani barely talks, yahaba barely talks, the only conversation is the few questions that kyoutani’s father asks him about school and how he and kyoutani met. yahaba quickly retells the story of the first time they talked at the park, obviously leaving out the endless swears coming from kyoutani. the meal goes by quickly, and the two teenagers head back up to kyoutani’s room once again. 

kyoutani’s walls are a light grey, a warm grey that makes yahaba sleepy, and the majority of his room matches, so he yawns a few times before beginning to talk with kyoutani again.

“how old is bee?” yahaba finds himself asking after a few minutes of quiet, with the exception of kyoutani’s breathing. 

“she’s four,” he responds, and yahaba chuckles at the way his eyes glow when he’s talking about her. he imagines— only for a second— himself with kyoutani, they’re older, and they’ve gotten bee a little sibling, another puppy to keep her company. yahaba wants to know what kyoutani looked like when his father first brought bee home, or whether or not kyoutani went to pick out a puppy with him. yahaba’s endlessly curious, and he hates it. he hates that he doesn’t know all of the answers to his embarrassing questions about his embarrassing crush.

at some point after the sun has completely sunk behind the mountains, encasing the street in darkness, kyoutani leaves to use the bathroom, and yahaba waits patiently for his return, trying not to let his hands linger over the imprint that kyoutani has left in the bed. 

kyoutani comes back about two minutes and twenty-seven seconds later (yahaba totally wasn’t counting, that’d be weird), rubbing his eyes. his fists fall away from his face and he looks up at yahaba, and yahaba can feel his own eyes widen at the sight of kyoutani without his eyeliner (yahaba fist-bumps himself mentally, he totally called it). he looks calm, he looks sleepy, no longer bold and daring and rumored to have gotten two detentions in a week. he looks like... kyoutani.

he lies down on his back next to yahaba, and they don’t say a single word for a bit, yahaba still just letting himself admire kyoutani as he is and resisting his temptations to run his fingers through his curly, blond hair.

“would your mom care if you didn’t come home tonight?” kyoutani asks, and it catches yahaba completely off-guard. “i mean... like... a sleepover or something.”

“oh. um. no, i don’t think so,” yahaba lies. his mother would be very angry with him. 

he doesn’t care.

“okay,” kyoutani says, “would you?”

he’s kind of quiet, and yahaba understands. 

“i’ve never had a sleepover,” he continues, “and i have a lot of trouble sleeping. do you think it would help?”

yahaba chuckles a bit. “i usually sleep worse during sleepovers, but i think it’s fine. if you want to, that’s fine with me.”

yahaba silences his phone as kyoutani rolls off the bed and digs around his closet, turning around with a large blanket and setting it down next to yahaba. yahaba unfolds it and wraps himself in it, letting the grey stripes overwhelm his figure. 

kyoutani slides in next to him, and yahaba finds himself admiring him again. he likes how his hair looks effortless— how he probably doesn’t have to worry about brushing it— he likes how kyoutani’s shirts are loose and hang over him, how his eyes are a light brown that he wouldn’t have noticed had he remained a passerby. 

yahaba thinks about how often he began talking with oikawa about kyoutani. in exchange, of course, oikawa told him about his crush on iwaizumi, and the two of them would schedule regular talks after practice to discuss any progress made in the relationship. it was easy enough for oikawa, considering that he’d fallen in love with his best friend, but yahaba helped him with hiding his true emotions from iwaizumi. oikawa always found it amusing when yahaba was the one guiding him and giving him advice, because “yahaba-chan, that’s my job,” he’d say, “i’m your trusty senpai!”

but here he is, sleeping in the same bed as kyoutani, trying his best not to combust or implode or start screaming in the middle of the night out of pure excitement. he wonders if he’ll be able to fall asleep. 

with yahaba, kyoutani sleeps practically silently, just a faint rise and fall of his chest, not even a snore. he looks peaceful when he’s asleep, and yahaba tries to convince himself that it’s completely weird to be as curious as he is about what his crush looks like when he’s asleep. yahaba falls asleep shortly after, ignoring the stresses he’s had for the past two and a half hours about his family, resting his head on kyoutani’s fluffy pillows. they’re more comfortable than his, and yahaba wonders if he’s punched them out of anger. or maybe he just knows how to actually shop for pillows. 

(maybe he just falls asleep quickly because he knows kyoutani’s with him. it’s reassuring.)

 

he wakes up with kyoutani’s arms around him, his legs around kyoutani’s, and their foreheads are close together. like magnets, they’ve slowly crept towards each other in slumber. yahaba tries to move back slowly, so he, firstly, doesn’t wake kyoutani, and secondly, doesn’t seem like he’s as mentally freaking out as he is. 

kyoutani’s eyes flutter open as yahaba’s just about off of the bed, and he lazily grabs yahaba’s wrist, turning yahaba to face him. 

“good morning,” yahaba says. 

“hey,” kyoutani responds, “you look really different when you hair’s all messy, by the way. it’s kinda cool.”

he squints, looking in the direction of the window, its blinds shut. 

“holy fuck, yahaba, what time is it?” he asks, letting go of yahaba’s wrist and sitting up quickly.

“calm down, kyoutani, it’s six-o-clock. on the dot,” yahaba replies. “oh. crap. what do i do about my hair?”

kyoutani waves his hand dismissively, mumbling something under his breath. 

 

for once, yahaba’s glad they wear uniforms for school, so no one can tell that he’s been wearing the same clothes for a a day and a half now (he took off some layers, of course, he needed to sleep comfortably). kyoutani meets with him and watari at lunch, and yahaba is amused by the expression on watari’s face as kyoutani simply sets down his lunch and pulls out a chair. 

kyoutani tells them about how he’s turned in his poster, that his teacher complimented him, and watari gets a great idea to ask kyoutani if the rumors about him are true. yahaba elbows him in the gut, but kyoutani continues over the sputtering watari.

“most of the times i’ve gotten in trouble... well...” he looks toward yahaba’s schoolbag, like he’s expecting it to move. “i snuck bee inside. that’s the majority of why i’ve gotten in trouble.”

watari pretends to wipe a tear from his eye, giggling endlessly as kyoutani elaborates about his plans to sneak in his dog. apparently, despite knowing that he’d gotten in trouble previously, he was determined to get through one full school day with bee by his side. yahaba chuckles, trying hard not to think about just how cute it is. 

(maybe that’s not a terribly bad thing to avoid thinking about, though. yahaba decides to give in.)

 

—

 

yahaba struggles greatly for the first few weeks that oikawa’s gone. he’s finally seventeen, now a third year and the captain of the volleyball team, but his mind is elsewhere, trying to keep himself balanced between school, volleyball, and... kyoutani.

they’d spent a lot of time together in the past year, definitely, but it’s more frequent now, with visits to snack shops down the street, hanging out at each others’ houses, and taking bee out for walks. yahaba’s mother hasn’t forgiven yahaba for the sleepover, since she hadn’t given him permission, but upon meeting kyoutani, she’d been delighted to have him as a guest and made sure to make the best dinner she possibly could.

kyoutani’s father even began hanging out with yahaba’s parents, and yahaba began hearing stories from his mother about all of the things kyoutani did back at home. kyoutani, on the other hand, met yahaba’s sister for the first time, whom he hadn’t even known had existed, and she and kyoutani got along fairly well. yahaba’s sister is older by a few years, a second year in college. she’s got big glasses and a knack for plants, and when bee is brought up in conversation, she squeals with excitement.

(maybe yahaba is just thankful that his family likes kyoutani as much as he does.)

after practice, yahaba takes the same shower stall every day, and he even leaves his shampoo in there, just because no one else uses the stall. he rushes out after a long practice, longing to run some hot water over his aching muscles, turning the knob on the shower and starting up the water, swinging his towel over the bar at the top. 

“yahaba,” calls another voice faintly over the sound of the water. “i... i think we might have switched showers.”

yahaba scans the stall, looking for evidence in how that could’ve happened, when he notices that his shampoo is nowhere to be found. he groans loudly in exasperation. he ties his towel around his waist and steps out of the stall for a moment, to retrieve his shampoo and return back to his shower. 

the door to the next stall cracks open just a tiny bit, and kyoutani pokes his head out. yahaba can’t tell if he’s blushing or if the heat from the water is just making his face red, but it’s cute, and he chuckles. 

“that’s some sturdy eyeliner you’ve got there,” yahaba jokes, and kyoutani rubs his eyes just to prove him right. it’s not budging. 

“it’s apparently really waterproof,” kyoutani responds. “take your fucking shampoo already, isn’t your ass like frozen solid when you’re standing out here all undressed?” 

yahaba takes the shampoo from kyoutani, but his hand lingers, and he hates when he’s indecisive, but this is different. he’s just... holding kyoutani’s hand, staring into his eyes, letting the water continue to run in his shower, when kyoutani pulls him forward, and he slides a bit on the tile floor of the locker room. 

kyoutani opens the door further, and yahaba’s not sure if he’s thankful that kyoutani’s wearing a towel or not, but he reaches out and places his hands on kyoutani’s cheeks. his heart’s racing, beating so hard that it’s a wonder it’s not visible, his breathing’s shaky, and kyoutani just kisses him, just kisses him, and he forgets it all. yahaba nearly pounces on him, leaping into kyoutani’s stall, letting themselves and the towels get soaked under the water, and yahaba’s almost in tears from happiness. 

he’s never kissed anyone before, but he’s sure looked up a lot of articles and practiced a lot, but kyoutani’s got no experience at all and they’re messy and neither of them really know what they’re doing, but it’s important nonetheless. yahaba’s hands slide down from kyoutani’s cheeks to his shoulders, then his sides, then down to his back, and he pulls kyoutani in closer. kyoutani, on the other hand, puts his hand on yahaba’s thigh, and he hisses a swear under his breath.

“that was hot,” kyoutani grumbles, chuckling at yahaba. he’s burning up, in disbelief that he’d let himself curse, after his reputation—

and the kyoutani leaves a trail of rough kisses on yahaba’s chest that make him say quite a few more. 

“shit, kyoutani,” he groans, and the slam of the locker room door tells them that someone else has entered the shower area, so they break apart. yahaba’s hands linger on kyoutani’s for a second more, and with a smile, a true smile from kyoutani, yahaba takes his shampoo and exits kyoutani’s stall, his heart doing backflips as he makes sure that a first year isn’t wandering around. 

 

—

 

on kyoutani’s twenty-third birthday, they buy a second dog. his name is moo (courtesy of oikawa, don’t let oikawa name anything) and he’s a husky, and his feet are too big for his body. kyoutani loves him. 

they’ve moved into an apartment together, a small space at the edge of their city, close enough to their families but far enough away that they have privacy. oikawa frequently visits, and kyoutani frequently complains about how he steals the coffee mugs subconsciously (yahaba knows it’s not subconscious. he’s doing it on purpose.). 

it’s quiet, most of the time, and neither of them are too solid on careers yet, but yahaba’s always bringing back new stories of the fifth grade class he substitutes for, and kyoutani has begun to laugh more freely at them. yahaba loves him more than anything, though. 

(maybe the dogs. he might love the dogs more.)

kyoutani still gets nightmares, but so does yahaba, and they’ll wake each other up enough that they have to kiss each other back to sleep. yahaba doesn’t mind. he’s betting that kyoutani doesn’t either. 

both of the dogs sleep on the couch, eleven-year-old bee still peppy as ever, and her dorky, adopted brother moo is challenging her in new ways every day. the dogs are the lights of their lives, and kyoutani often brings up that they should get more pets, maybe a turtle or a snake.

(maybe not a snake, though. yahaba’s kind of scared of snakes.)

he’s hoping for the turtle.

(maybe he just loves kyoutani too much. every bit of him. the braces from when he was fifteen, the endless swearing, awkward greetings, long bus rides with long conversations, first sleepovers, first kisses, first... other things, first public hand-holding, first apartment, first everything.)

“you think too much,” kyoutani grunts.

“yeah,” yahaba replies, kicking his feet back on the grey sheets that kyoutani picked out. 

(just... maybe.)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading !!! feel free to talk with me about the fic omg I love kyouhaba
> 
>  
> 
> tumblr || hajibean
> 
> p.s. I originally had angst and bee died but I thought I'd get too emotional whilst writing that omg
> 
> p.p.s there might be an iwaoi sequel because i love iwaoi


End file.
